


Nepenthe and Lavender

by 0hHeyThereBigBadWolf



Series: Tales of a Dragon and His Prince [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aithusa Deserved Better, Do Not Re-Post To Another Site, Dragons, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Gen, Short & Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23674522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf/pseuds/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf
Summary: Aithusa has seen her father's mate in his memories and smelled him on her father's skin when he comes to visit, but this is the first time she gets to meet him for herself.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Tales of a Dragon and His Prince [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737112
Comments: 50
Kudos: 1046
Collections: Scruffy Pendragon Fest





	Nepenthe and Lavender

Aithusa knows Father has come to visit her long before she can hear him or see him or even feel the warmth of his mind-glow against her thoughts. The Wind is blowing his scent towards her, and Father's rich nepenthe scent is the best thing in all the world, better than the smell of the old grandfather or fresh meat. The gentle tickling of the breeze also brings another scent to her, one that is familiar-yet-not, making her heart flutter with excitement—the smell of leather and lavender.

She knows that leather-and-lavender is Father's mate; she's seen it in the sense-memories he's shown her, felt it in that great swell of _love_ that rises in him, and smelt it on Father's skin sometimes when he comes to see her, an aroma of musk-salt-sweat a still-dormant part of her instinct recognises. However, she's never met him for herself, only seen him in Father's memories. But now, now he is _here,_ him and Father both, and she can hear them approaching her safe little cave, making those mouth-noises that humans use to communicate since they do not touch minds. Still, she obeys Father's commands and stays hidden in the cave, wriggling with repressed glee.

 _[Aithusa, Aithusa,]_ Father's mind calls to hers, and she can't help her chirp of excitement, her still-webbed baby wings fluttering. _[Come out, Aithusa, we're here.]_

There! She darts out of the sheltering stone arms of Earth, climbing down the face of the cliffside the way the grandfather showed her in his old-old memories, down to the grass of the meadow. On the other side of the meadow, there is Father and his mate. She reaches her mind out to touch leather-and-lavender's before she remembers that their familial bond isn't formed yet, so she chirps out a greeting instead, bounding over to meet him.

Father crouches on his heels, holding out his arms to her, and she leaps to him happily. Being held by Father feels so wonderful, feeling his warm-warm body all around her, the deep thrum of his heart thrumming so close. His comforting nepenthe scent surrounds her even as the deep, vast ocean of his love envelops her mind-glow. She rubs her head beneath his chin to make sure they smell like each other, as is proper, then turns to look at leather-and-lavender for the first time in flesh.

He looks much like he does in Father's memories, only _more_ and _better_ because he's _here._ She flicks out her tongue to taste his scent, forming up her own sense-memories of him. The fur on his head is longer than in the memories, and she wonders if it is as soft as Father's. He doesn't have his steel-fang, nor is he wearing his scales—and how clever humans are, creating their own scales since they have none of their own—only those colourful false-skins, and the implicit trust in the gesture makes her love him even more.

He holds out one foreclaw, though it isn't _quite_ a claw, as he has no talons like she does, and at Father's encouraging mental nudge, Aithusa crawls over onto him instead. Leather-and-lavender makes that low rumbling noise in his chest Father makes when he's happy, and he gently runs his rough-warm digits over her back, scratching gently along her spine ridge. He doesn't quite reach all those good spots that she can't scratch on her own, like Father does, but he can be taught.

It is all well and good, meeting her father's mate, but she notices with some dissatisfaction that while leather-and-lavender smells like Father, he doesn't smell like her. That isn't right. They are family, clan, and they are supposed to smell like one another, so everyone will know that they belong to one another. It is something easily remedied, however. She crawls the rest of the way up his arm up onto his shoulder and sets to rubbing her scent onto his neck.

"Hey! Merlin, what is she doing?"

"She's scent-marking you."

Aithusa ignores their strange human mouth-noises, busily winding herself under his chin, around his throat, then down under his false-skins so she can get to the rest of him.

"Ah-ah, Merlin, make her stop! It tickles, dammit!"

Leather-and-lavender is twitching all over and making that funny sound in his chest again, but Father's mind is all aglow with delight, so she knows she's doing no harm. As if she would ever harm her father's mate! She only wants him to smell right, the way he's supposed to.

Once she's rubbed her scent off on his soft belly and his chest—he has a bit of fur there, too; how odd humans are—she wriggles her way back up, climbing up out of his false-skin and back up onto his shoulders, stretching her neck up so she can rest her chin atop the fur on his head. It's softer than the fur on his chest, thicker, too, and smells more like lavender than leather. And it is gold, too! Gold is a good colour, like Father's eyes and the grandfather's scales. Curling her tail under his chin, she leans up further to grasp at his soft-soft fur with both her foreclaws, pressing her still-soft belly to him and prumming softly in her throat.

"Is she _purring?_ I didn't know dragons did that."

"Only when they're very happy, which is probably why you've never heard it."

"Very funny. I make _you_ plenty happy, last I recall."

"Hush, dollophead. Not in front of Aithusa."

"Well, if you insist."

Leather-and-lavender reaches up and tries to pull her away, but she holds fast, nipping him away and curling her tail a little tighter around him. She's wanted to meet Father's mate since she first saw him in sense-memory, and now that he is here, she very well doesn't want him to go running off again.

"She won't let go."

"It's all that lovely hair of yours, O fair one. Dragons _are_ fond of gold."

 _"Mer_ lin…"

"Oh, alright."

Father's thoughts brush along hers. _[Let go, little one.]_

 _[No go. Warm-safe, smell good-right. Stay.]_ Why should she move? She's comfortable here, and he finally smells right, and with the Sun warm on her back, she's ready for a nap. She rubs her chin against his soft-soft fur, nuzzling further into him until all she can see is a gold haze, smelling their properly-mingled family scent.

"Merlin, she is still not letting go."

"She doesn't want to."

"Merlin!"

"She's only a baby, Arthur. Did _you_ always do what you were told when you were that young?"

"Oh, for the love of—fine, fine."

Aithusa tightens her grip with an alarmed squeak as he moves unexpectedly, but then she begins to prumm again when she realises that he's only lying down on the grass, stretching out on his belly. That's even better, because now she can stretch out too, lying across his back instead of trying to keep hold of his shoulder. The slow rise-and-fall of his breath is soothing, like the way Father rocks her in his arms.

Father lays down next to leather-and-lavender, on his back instead of his belly so he can watch the sky for anything that might attack from above, and she basks in the giddy warmth of his happiness and their mingled family scent. Already, she can feel the bond between the three of them starting to form, thin little strands just beginning to spin themselves together. It might take a little longer, since humans don't talk mind-to-mind except for the forest-dwellers, but soon she'll be able to communicate with leather-and-lavender too. Maybe then she'll finally be able to learn his truename, which she still cannot make sense of in Father's mouth-sounds.

"Maybe I should just forget about my crown, just wear the dragonling instead."

"Dragonet. She'll be a dragonet until she breathes her first fire, then she'll be a drakka until the webbing comes off her wings, and then she'll be a dragoness."

"Mm, thank you so much for the lesson, mighty Dragonlord."

"You're welcome, ignorant king."

As pleasing as the rumble of his voice is, all this noise is not conducive to napping. A bit of the grandfather's medicine will do for that. She snorts into his fur and swats him with a wing. He makes an indignant sound, twitching under her, but Father makes soothing noises at him, the same ones he uses on her when she can't sleep well, and he settles again.

Aithusa yawns and burrows herself back into all that soft-soft gold fur even as she wraps herself in the vast ocean of Father's loving mind-glow. Her eyes drift closed. Sleep beckons; as she slides down into it, Father's soothing rumbly mouth-sounds ease her towards it faster.

"I suppose you won't be wanting that haircut now, sire?"

"Shut up, Merlin."


End file.
